


Date Night

by peoriapeoria



Series: Worlds Collide [8]
Category: due South
Genre: Burlesque, Crossdressing, F/M, Genderbending, M/M, Pegging, crossgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benton and Tracy go out and enjoy their 'adult time'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in 2003. Antipodes is the first story in the series and Negotiate is the most recently written story before this.

Benton Fraser walked down the street in jeans, plaid shirt and his hat. His hair was too long. He'd put off his trim day after day, his barber having died. The shop was still there, but the stylists who had their own clientele, previously on Monday, Wednesday, Sunday and by appointment after 6 pm, had made it over. It had never been a convenient location, and was less so after the Consulate moved. It was time, two weeks past time, to make a change.

He checked the street number above the door, and stepped inside, removing his hat. The smell of chemicals was strong. He looked at the slick decor as he walked up to the reception desk. "I was told walk-ins were acceptable."

She looked up and grinned. "What services?"

"A hair cut. I've brought a picture, though it's an inexact guide." He pulled the photocopy from his hat and offered it to her.

She looked from the picture, to him, and back to the picture. "Georg is almost done." She offered her hand for his hat. "I think we have this issue, though feel free to look at the other options."

"Thank you kindly." He crossed into the miniscule waiting area, found the sister to Frannie's magazine, then flipped through a few others until he was called.

"Georg?" She had hair much more experimental than Ray ever had, at least during their acquaintance. It was also bright white. He handed her the magazine open to the image.

She smiled. "Can't call myself Jette, I don't look good in black." She grasped his hair, firmly and carefully. After a few moments of gentle tugging across his scalp, she let him sit down and wrapped a length of toweling around his neck before fastening a drape over him. "Page 57?" She showed him the picture, pointing to it clearly.

"Yes. Naturally, it's not exact."

"How short do you mean it to be?"

"Not buzzed, I--" He bit off that sentence, self-barbering being hardly polite to mention. "Short enough it stands up but long enough to be soft."

She dug her fingers in his hair some more. "Short enough to hide the curl?"

"Yes." He thought she knew, but had turned the statement into a question for politeness.

"Cute fierce without sliding into naive?" She leaned down to his ear to ask.

He swallowed, then answered "Yes."

"Okay."

After that she was a model of efficiency and congeniality, not inquiring into matters personal, conversing on various topics as she worked. Setting down her scissors, she spun him around, holding up a mirror to show him the back. She'd done what he'd wanted.

"Have you considered a color rinse?"

"Ah." There was no regulation against this hair cut, which could be construed as a stage between two standard methods of male coiffure.

"They're semi-permanent, they don't rub off or stain, but they shampoo away gradually so there's no roots to cover. I have a burnt sienna; it would darken your hair with a bit of red."

He looked at the clock in the mirror. "Okay."

She patted him on the shoulder.

\-----------------------------------------

Fraser finished painting his lipliner on and checked the time. He pulled on a shirt over his bra and cincher, fastening only three middle buttons. He headed down the back stairs.

"Regina has been dropped off; let date night begin." Tracy closed the fridge door and turned, his long red hair flaring with the motion. He looked Benton up and down, arms still outstretched. The mix of man and Ms Fraser was disconcertingly sexy. "Where are we going?"

Fraser looked down. "I'm not dressed. I wanted to... that is to say--"

Tracy latched onto Benton's painted lips and rubbed his hands over the short hair. "Velvet." He leaned back into hands holding him at the waist. "You've picked out something for me to wear."

"Yes." Benton fussed with Tracy's tie before stilling the hand petting his hair. "It's going to take time to get ready."

"Dress now, molest later?" Tracy disentangled them, and grasped Bea's hand, encouraging her ahead.

\-----------------------------------------

Tracy looked at the dress, a frothy confection. He looked over and asked, "What are you wearing?"

"Look at the time." Bea knew it was a shameless, and bald, deflection.

Tracy laughed. "Want me to shave?" He started pulling off clothes and headed for the bathroom.

"Please." She readied the makeup area and laid out Tracy's foundation garments.

\----------------------------------------

Fraser fastened the cigarette pants over the shirtwaist's tails. She took the handle of the curling iron from Tracy's hand and opened the jaw from the curl before unplugging it.

"My purse?" Tracy took it and looked inside, snapping the clutch shut. "Seams straight?" He stilled so Bea could loop a scarf around his neck, then tightened Bea's tie. "Where are we headed?" Two tickets were presented. Tracy read them and laughed, shoving them into his purse. "Shall we?" Tracy offered an elbow.

The burlesque cabaret was good, though it had serious competition in Bea's blush. For all the consternation caused by various performers' undress, she was clearly entranced by the tongue-twister lyrics and witty triple-entendre dialogue. Tracy was best amused with the sing-along serenade, as it meant for a lapful of Fraser's fine ass.

\----------------------------------------------

Tracy stumbled back into the wall, pulling Bea forward.

Bea rocked their hips together, shifting Tracy's skirts to slide between his legs. Tracy's hands latched over the back of Bea's head, reeling her in for hot, wet kisses. Fraser gripped the brick-red wall beside Tracy's head in one hand while the other kneaded his breast in shadow.

They rutted together in frustration for long minutes, separated by too many clothes. Tracy growled and flailed, squeezed handfuls encased within slacks, head rapping the wall.

"Shhsh." Fraser dragged hands down the dress' bodice, thrusting them down and under the excess of fabric, pulling back incrementally to unfasten Tracy's garters and the slacks' fly, slip panties from hips and release the tuck. He sank against Tracy, into Tracy. They thrust together, Tracy pinned against the wall.

Their release broke across them, leaving them panting.

"Help me out of this frock before it gets stained." Tracy leaned forward allowing access of the zipper. Fraser pushed up, easing the gown's waist over Tracy's shoulders, pulling until Tracy was free of the skirts. Dress removed, Benton tossed it onto a chair. Tracy clasped hands over his wrists, holding them above their heads.

"Your pants too." Tracy bucked against Benton, leaning back against the wall-hanging.

"Machine-washable." He stood against her as he softened, then slipped from her heat. Benton turned them, pulling off their shoes and peeling out of his pants, as he moved them towards the bed. Tracy unknotted Benton's tie and flung it away. He pressed Tracy down, kissed down, skipping the still-tied scarf, and into the heaving cleavage. His fingers worked open the long-line brassiere and he lapped at the exposed glistening flesh. Nipped, mouthed, suckled.

He slowly moved down, over ribs and taut stomach, flicked his tongue in the sweat-filled navel. Fraser lifted past the garter belt's band to resume his sucking.

Tracy's fingers slipped over Benton's hair, unable to find purchase as he nuzzled between her legs, lapping into her. She bucked rhythmically, clutching his head as he put his tongue and excess lung capacity to use. She arched and clamped her thighs tight over his ears, jolted that he was sucking his come out of her.

Benton held her up. He slowed and Tracy let her thighs splay open, settling back against the mattress. Replete, he moved slightly, his short hair tickling her thigh, face slick and makeup smeared.

"You're a mess." Tracy shifted, rolled Benton onto his back and unbuttoned the darted shirt. She looked, then cupped his bra, realizing he'd looked more pert because he'd worn smaller falsies. Tracy reached under to unhook him. He was so very Fraser. Tracy leaned down, mouth against his ear, "are you good to be fucked?"

Fraser nodded, and signed yes into her back. Tracy slipped over the side of the bed. Benton pulled off his blouse and tossed it and then the bra off the other side before rolling onto his stomach. He unfastened the cincher, lobbing it after its mate.

Tracy rose from her crouch, arms on the mattress. "You don't want it on your back?" She kissed his ruined mouth, tasting their mingled flavor. Tolerable.

He grabbed Tracy, rolling onto his back and pulling Tracy with him. He kissed her comprehensively. Needed. Wanted. Loved.

Tracy broke away, adjusting the leg strap. "A moment." Tracy stretched for the lube on the nightstand, squeezing out a palmful. She plopped it onto Benton's stomach to warm, slicking two fingers. The first slid into him easy, so very easy. In and out, in and out before she joined it with the second.

Benton drew up his knees, then rolled up his hips.

Tracy kissed a near, dear, knee. "Eager?" Tracy scissored and twisted her fingers inside him,making sure he was lubed and loose before pulling her fingers free. Scooping up the slick she coated the condom-covered jutting length between her legs, lined up and pressed slowly in, clutching Benton's thighs.

"So beautiful. You're fucking beautiful." Tracy dragged back, pushed in, feeding the length inside him and again out carefully. Long, smooth strokes.

Not enough. He struggled to throw his knees over Tracy's shoulders, to find a handhold.

Tracy arranged Benton's legs and leaned forward. Their lovemaking became a fast hard fuck.

Tracy slowed as she felt him snap, gentling their motion gradually before she eased free. She stripped the condom inside out from the clear lingam and tossed the latex into the garbage.

Tracy leaned down and arranged Benton in a more comfortable position, unbuckled the harness, and slid to the bed's edge to set the whole on the floor. Tracy reached back for the covers and sprawled over Benton, their painted faces pressed softly together.

Fin


End file.
